


Phoebus

by vespirus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Internal Monologue, ovid's metamorphoses which are hysterically funny!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vespirus/pseuds/vespirus
Summary: Dirk meets his brother before the final battle and if his way of dealing with hard situations is to fall back on comparisons to Roman classical poetry, then.Well.That's his business.(a drabble)





	Phoebus

When you see him for the first time, it’s.

You remember late nights, sleepless nights ( _but you had so many of those these days it meant almost nothing, not since you woke on Derse_ ) reading old philosophy to have something to turn over in your head. Something to translate from jumbles of prose into comprehension. Ovid stuck with you, if only for the beauty of the translations. The second book of _Metamorphoses_ , the story of Phaethon.

And there you stand, on this Mount Olympus, the Palace of the Sun. Standing high, risen above the world on a column of burning green and black and the lightning crackled ever present overhead to flash of gold and silver and ivory. The Zodiac overhead, the beta trolls off helping the others and everyone checking their places.

And here you were, Clymene’s son, lowly Phaethon moved step after step to climb up to the sky and meet his father, to ask for the truth, to beg for acknowledgment. And just as Ovid wrote there he was, garbed in rich crimson like blood and lava and the sun clashing with the hills and setting the sky on fire.

But there was no throne here. Only a man.

And not even that. Barely a boy. A shaken child stood far from you, and you wondered if you trembled as much as you felt in the distressed thrumming of your veins, your heart. If you even had one still.

There was no stately greeting, he did not descend from his authority to extend a hand of kindness, no whorl of a red cloak ending in relief of your fears. You don't know what you expected.

( _Yes you did_.)

You want to collapse, crumble under the heavy atmosphere and fall to your knees like you ( _you the prince_ ) were in the presence of royalty, like you were about to light the incense of a hellenic sacrifice, with an expression like you're seeing, in such succinct words, “ _the face of god_.”

You want him to… You don't know what. Shrug off his sunrise cape, push back his shades like a diadem made of black refraction and take a knee and outstretch an arm, calling you his brother ( _son_ ) and telling you you were right all along, it’s okay, you deserve this, you're worthy of acknowledgment ( _love_ ), it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.

But he doesn't. He stands there and you stand here and it's silent as the night, as the river Styx.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i havent updated in forever, i kind of dropped out of my interest in mp100 and then got into jjba and now back into hs and im super busy with school and irl stuff. been having long and awesome talks w a friend about the striders tho and gotten back into reading some, ive started reading ovid when i can which has got me thinkng emo stuff about hs constantly. this is really short and heavily references the story of phaethon but i dont think u need to have read it to get this!


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